


Clown Town, U.S.A

by meatman



Category: No Fandom
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 08:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23348638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meatman/pseuds/meatman
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

The smoke from my cigar mixed with that of my trusty revolver. I had been acting on one of my favourite pastimes, firing indoors. The dust on my desk had to have been about an inch thick. Papers were strewn about the room, covering just about every surface. The only thing even remotely presentable was the liquor cabinet, which had almost been drained of its fine resources. It was this condition that my office was in when I heard the knock. It’s open, I told the figure on the other side. Then she came in. A real pretty broad, shoes the size of cement mixers and legs halfway to the moon. I recognized her from my time on the force. Commissioner Farthing. She set her jaw and stepped over the mountains of crumpled papers. Her rainbow curls bounced playfully as she pulled up a chair, her attitude much larger than should’ve been able to fit in her slim frame. Before I could ask what exactly my former employer was doing in my office, she laid it all out for me. “Bozo the clown was killed last night.” She had her usual air of indifference, but I could tell it was choking her up. “Three gunshot wounds across the chest. Not in any vital places, but enough blood spilled out for him to die regardless.” I was familiar with the guy. City’s most popular mayor, five years running. The crime rate had dropped twenty percent in his time in office. Hell, he was half the reason work had been so slow. So why had his life been ended before his term?  
I was still mulling this over in my mind by the time she had gone. A hot, steaming down payment and one hell of a mystery. That reminded me, I hadn’t had my morning cup yet. I decided to mainline some caffeine and think it over at the local joint. “Hold my calls, Zoe. I’ve got a case,” I shouted as I pulled on my coat and placed my hat upon my head. It was 11:26 AM when I left my office.

The Society was quieter than usual. As I stepped inside the best bar this side of town, I noticed the usual atmosphere of raucous gambling, drinks so strong they’d knock over a horse, and japes dumber than my nephew was gone, replaced by a couple fools drinking away their hopes at the bar and smoke almost as dense as my nephew. “What’ll it be, Mac?”  
The tapster looked tired. He always was, but today he just looked finished. I was worried he would pass right out on that freshly polished counter.  
“I’ll take the usual. Straight black and a scotch.” I always came here in the mornings. My secretary couldn’t make a good coffee for the life of her, bless her heart. Plus, the scotch helped me think. As the tapster turned his back to me to fix my drink, I took a closer survey of the place. The smoke seemed to be coming from the desolate souls at the bar. It was the usual bar-service crowd. Fools who just couldn’t catch a break. To be frank, that’s where I was headed if I didn’t step up my game. There didn’t look to be anyone else in the bar though, and that was new. The normally full tables were as empty as my nephew’s skull. “Here you are. Straight black and a scotch.” The tapster passed me my drinks. Solemnly. “What’s a guy gotta do to see a couple smiles nowadays?” I asked, not really to anyone in particular. “You look like someone just died.” The tapster looked at me, incredulous, and then gestured to my left, at one of the bar’s high-up side windows. Red and blue lights flashed through the square windows. Oh. Right. I finished off my drinks and headed outside. 

The normally quiet alleyway between The Society and Boppo’s Sewing Emporium was bustling with cops. I had to make my way through a jungle of caution tape before I was actually in the hub of activity. It seemed they really didn’t want this getting out. Before I could take in the scene, one of the cops approached me. A real big guy, six feet four of business ruffles and muted polkadots. He was about to ask what I was doing here, so I spared him the trouble and whipped out my license. Pogo Chunkles, P.I. If my getup didn’t make me look like a big league investigator, then my license sure did. The cop backed down and I checked the area. There was blood everywhere, almost as much as can fit in a man. Could fit in a man. There was a chalk outline of our beloved former mayor, massive ‘do and all. ...but that was it. They had already carted the body off to the mortuary. Shit. So the alleyway was a bust. Maybe I could gather some intel from the clowns inside The Society. I slipped out of the alleyway and back inside to some semblance of order. I wiped my bloody feet off on the mat and stepped into the bar proper. Same crowd as before, give or take a couple. It was still too early for any real activity.  
I stepped up to the counter, took a stool, and waited for the tapster to finish up with the other guys. After a small while, he finally turned to me. His courteous smile faded when he saw my notepad. “What did you see the night of?” I asked him. The tapster sighed. “As you probably know by now, our beloved mayor was drinking here last night. Probably washing away the memories of a rough deal. After he left… I’m not sure. I heard a sound like glass smashing, but nothing else.” His face was all scrunched up, like he was trying to remember something that just wouldn’t surface. All in all, a pretty good impression of my nephew. “Sorry, but that’s all I’ve got. Maybe something could jog my memory..?” This time it was my turn to sigh. I fished through my wallet and pulled out a dollar bill and a couple of nickels. “Would this do it for you?” He wordlessly slid them across the counter towards him. “It’s not much, but it’ll do. If it helps you any, I also saw him get accosted by a stray temptress.” He pointed out the front window, towards the curb. “She should be working this bit of street again tonight, If she wasn’t scared off by the murder.” Finally. I jotted down my first lead in my notepad and slid off the stool. I was about to ask one of the other fools at the counter, but they all looked too depressed to have seen anything. I gave the tapster one last look and headed out the door. I still had a whole day to go before she’d be out on the streets, and a whole lot of investigating to do before I could close this case.


	2. Chapter 2

The alleyway was a bust, so I decided that the next best place to check would be the morgue. Auguste Blue’s Body Shop was the fanciest one in town, and that’s probably where they would have brought Mr. Mayor. As I stood at the corner and waited for a bus, I checked my watch. Noon. Suddenly I heard a honk and almost before I could step back from the curb a polka-dot car squealed round the corner. I looked in through the back window. Damn. The bus was packed like a tin of sardines. Smelled like one too. I gave a weary sigh, slapped a five in the driver’s hand, and crumpled myself in there. It was dark for a while, and all I could hear was the sound of the car and faint squeaks. Then the doors opened up, and I tumbled out unceremoniously onto the pavement along with the twenty or so other clowns in the car. It wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel, but it was a hell of a lot cheaper than cabs and my car was still in the shop. I got up, dusted myself off, and looked around. I was on the corner of east fifth and cap road, a block or so from the morgue. I set off on my way, passing a couple clowns on the way. It was a dreary day, and everyone who wasn’t at work was probably hunkered down in their home near their fireplace with a nice mug of cocoa. But not me. I had business to attend to.   
I rounded the corner to east seventh, and there it was. Auguste Blue’s shone in the noon light like just about every other building downtown. I stepped inside and the door jangled as it closed behind me. The place smelled like death and hand sanitizer. I walked up to the front desk and looked around. Nobody was there. I sighed, and took a seat. I hoped the guy would come back soon, or this would be useless. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted some reading material. The news. One the front page, There was some disturbing news. Or at least, it would have been disturbing if I hadn’t been trying to find out why it happened all day:

**MAYOR BOZO DEAD; CULPRIT STILL AT LARGE!**

That last bit seemed like a bit of an understatement. Not only was the culprit still at large, the guy hadn’t even been unmasked. I flipped through the paper a bit, but still couldn’t shake the looming feeling of dread. “...Sir?” I looked up. The guy was back at the desk. I had been so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed him come back. I set down the press and stood up. “I’m here on official city business.” I flashed my license, which was sewn onto my wallet. “On the Mayor’s case.” The deskman gave a quick nod and opened the door. “Right this way, mister..?” “Chunkles. Pogo Chunkles. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I held out my hand, which he shook, and we started into the inner chambers of Auguste Blue’s Body Shop. I wasn’t one for small talk, so our venture down the door-lined hallway was long, quiet, and awkward. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally reached one of the rooms where they kept the stiffs. Specifically, the one where they were keeping the Mayor. The deskman, whose name was Jimbo as I could see by his tag, opened the door and I stepped in and he closed it behind me. The room was large, and smelled aseptic, like a hospital. Or like a morgue. Jimbo led me to one of the further drawers and pulled up a table. I slid it open and was immediately hit by the stink of blood and hospital equipment. The acrid smell was so thick it made my eyes water. I guessed they had already started pumping the guy full of preservatives. I pinched my nose shut and looked the stiff over head to toe. Three bullet wounds, just as Penny had said, all across the chest. Pale as a ghost, from all the blood he lost. But there were also some other marks that I couldn’t quite see but just knew were important. “Could you give me some privacy?” I said to Jimbo. “I-I ccan’t let you do th-that, s-” I planted my finger firmly upon his lips. “I need to make an examination. Give me some room.” he wheeled around on one foot and very hurriedly rushed out the door. I hoped that was him listening to me and not getting someone with more power. Now that I had the room to myself, I could really get to work. I lit a cigarette and crouched down next to bozo so I could get a closer look. What I saw was a lot of bruises. Faint purple blotches all plastered around the arms and head. Signs of a fight. I stood back up and began to pace about the room. I would make sense that there was a struggle. He can’t have been caught off guard. Even if he was drunk off his ass, the mayor had been suspicious of everything. Maybe there were multiple people…? I heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and quickly snuffed my cigarette. I turned around as Jimbo came back in with a much larger, bulkier man by his side. This mortuary had a bouncer?

I hit the sidewalk hard. The bouncer, Biffy, waved goodbye and slammed the door shut behind me. I was clearly not welcome there, no matter what business I had with the mayor. I put that on my mental list of places not to be sent when I died. So, where to next? I had spent a good hour or two in Auguste Blue’s, if you counted the cab to get there. That would mean it was… I checked my watch. ...fifteen after two. I sighed, dusting myself off and looking around for the nearest bus stop. I still had a good seven hours to go until I could talk to our mysterious seductress, and no ideas left. I spotted a stop a block or so away, and made my way there. After a short while of waiting, a polkadot car squealed to a halt in front of me. Just as cramped as the last one. I paid the fare, squeezed myself inside, and we were off.


End file.
